


Taxonomic Identification

by ikementally-deficient (pepperbar)



Category: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperbar/pseuds/ikementally-deficient
Summary: Pre-dawn PWP. Lucien x MC, fairly vanilla. Inspired by Lutz of the Thots of Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice discord. In the end, I didn’t even work in the idea that prompted this, so there will probably be a follow-up.





	Taxonomic Identification

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatsnewlu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsnewlu/gifts).



She lies in his bed, facedown on the pillow. Her breathing is soft and even. The pale pre-dawn light filters in through the blinds, throwing faint stripes across her spine. 

Lucien props himself up on one elbow, studying the effect. The bars of light fan over her ribs like the ribs of a dragon’s wing. The idea intrigues him; she’s no dragon, of course, his gentle, fragile butterfly, but wings . . . He trails his fingers lightly across her naked back, tracing the path of the light.

She stirs, a soft moan heralding her slide out of deep sleep. After a moment, she rolls her face towards him enough to open one eye and see him through the curtain of hair. “Lucien?” She breathes his name, barely loud enough to break the morning silence. He smiles gently and leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He continues to trace lines on her back, imagining what kind of wings might spring from her delicate shoulders. “No need to wake up yet, it’s still early.” She sighs in response, eye fluttering shut.

“That feels so nice,” she whispers. “It feels like you’re drawing a picture.”

Lucien chuckles softly. “In a way.” He leans down and presses another kiss between her left shoulder blade and her spine. “I was imagining,” he whispers against her skin, “what you might look like as a butterfly. If you had wings here,” he slides his mouth across her spine to the other side, “and here.”

She shivers under him, but her one visible eye stays closed. “What kind of butterfly would I be?”

“Hmmm.” He rolls back to his side of the bed, resting his head on the pillow to look directly at her face. “An excellent question.” He brushes her hair back from her face. “What do you think?”

“Something pretty, I think. Brightly coloured.”

Lucien isn’t sure if she knows the brightest coloured insects are usually poisonous, and butterflies are no different, but he humours her all the same. “Then I think one of the _Nymphalidae_ would be best for you. The name is appropriate; you’re very nymph-like as you are.” He returns to running his hand slowly down her back while he ruminates. She sighs as his fingertips slide down the small of her back and circle lazily at the curve of her rear. “Perhaps _kaniska canace_ , the blue admiral. It has dark wings, with an azure stripe along the edge.” He lets his fingers caress the fold where buttocks meets thigh, noting where the muscle twitches in response. “But blue doesn’t suit you. It’s too cool a colour.”

He props himself up again, rubbing the back of her thigh until the muscle relaxes again. “Maybe one of the _vanessas_ , the painted ladies.” His hand starts to wander up its return path, and wavers near the cleft of her legs, as if considering. It’s not until her breath hitches that his hand moves on to trace her vertebrae. She sighs again, almost mournfully this time.

“I don’t think ‘painted lady’ suits you either.” He shifts towards her, breathing each word into her neck and shoulder. “Your appeal is entirely lacking in that kind of artifice.” Her breath hitches again, speeding up. His hand splays out in response, covering her entire shoulder blade and sliding around her ribs to tease at the side of her breast.

“No, I think there is only one butterfly for you. _Danaus plexippus_.” Lucien mouths his way to the back of her neck and starts slowly, deliberately, kissing his way down her spine. 

“Does that one have -- ” she gasps as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “-- a proper name?”

He smiles into her tailbone, resting his chin in the cleft of her buttocks and licking the dimple above each cheek before answering. “Of course. Its common name is the Monarch butterfly.”

“Monarch -- ah! -- butterfly?” Her question is interrupted by his sudden parting of her legs with one hand, the other hand resting lightly on the small of her back to keep her from rolling over. He slips his fingers into the shadowy gap, enjoying the warm damp smell of arousal.

“Oh yes.” He finds the sensitive nub of her with his fingers, and strokes it slowly as he slides the rest of his body down the bed, finally resting his face between her legs. “I can think of no better title for you, my butterfly.” He exhales warmly and has to retrieve his other hand to keep her thighs from clenching around his ears. “You are, after all, my Queen.” His tongue slips into her soft folds. She whimpers as his fingers speed up, and her legs widen as she tries to push back towards him. 

“Oh, not yet, little butterfly.” He slides his free hand up her thigh and spreads her open wider, admiring the glistening pink flesh before him. “I’m not done worshipping my queen.” He licks her open, maintaining friction on her nub as his tongue slides inside her. His other hand wanders further back, until he’s drawing careful circles around her pucker.

“Lu -- _Lucien_.” Her voice sounds scandalised, but the rest of her tightens around him in a way he recognises. He keeps the fingers of his right hand on her clitoris and slides his thumb deep inside her, pressing firmly with his left thumb at the same time. Her answering moan starts throaty, but quickly spirals higher as he feels her quake around him.

At last she relaxes, sprawling bonelessly as he slides his hand out of her and reaches for a tissue. By the time he’s arranged himself beside her again, her breathing has evened out and she’s fast asleep. Lucien gently gathers her against himself, resting her head on his shoulder and draping her arm across his chest.

“Sleep a while longer, my queen.”


End file.
